Then the others came out. Mrs. Thoresby and Mrs. Linceford got inside
the vehicle at once, securing comfortable back corner-seats. Ginevra,
with Leslie and Elinor, and one or two others too late for their own
interest, but quite comprehending the thing to be preferred, lingered
while the last trunks went on, hoping for room to be made somehow.
"It's so gay on the top, going down into the villages. There's no fun
inside," said Imogen complacently, settling herself upon her perch.
"Won't there be another stage?"
"Only half way. This one goes through."
"I'll go half way on the other, then," said Ginevra.
"This is the best team, and goes on ahead," was the reply.
"You'll be left behind," cried Mrs. Thoresby. "Don't think of it,
Ginevra!"
"Can't that boy sit back, on the roof?" asked the young lady.
"That boy" quite ignored the allusion; but presently, as Ginevra moved
toward the coach-window to speak with her mother, he leaned down to
Leslie Goldthwaite. "I'll make room for _you_," he said.
But Leslie had decided. She could not, with effrontery of selfishness,
take the last possible place,--a place already asked for by another.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115